Facets
by Dark-heika
Summary: Sometimes he was there. Other times, he wasn't.


Most of the time, he wasn't there.

He was just somewhere else in the wherever they were now. He'd be back later, after training with the snake. But in the beginning, when he was still physically chained down because the mental ones weren't yet secure, he was in another place entirely.

It stung in a way, really. He'd wanted a companion, the snake had said. So the snake had brought him one. The only one he couldn't (wouldn't?) kill, perhaps in the hope he one day would. And yet he had the gall to leave him here, waiting for him to get back from wherever the hell he was.

He wasn't just left to rot, though. That was too kind for them. The first caretaker was no different from those he'd left behind. Cruel sneers, harsh beatings at the slightest prompt, and as much neglect as he could get away with if he wasn't the perfect 'guest' (because the lord of this place couldn't have an unbroken prisoner, no).

That had ended when it had almost killed him. After all, even a shinobi can die if they go long enough without water.

Somehow, his second caretaker was worse.

She was softer, kinder. She had a good smile, the kind he would trust back at (he wouldn't think about that place. It hurt too much), and smoothed away the marks of cruelty. For the remainder of however long it had taken for his 'master' to get to where he was kept waiting, she'd kept watch over him.

The scariest thing about the treatment was that it had worked. Weeks of cruelty brought back the old days, and with a boy who's known cruelty and neglect for most his life, kindness tended to go a long way. Long enough to swallow the poison that had come with it.

(This was all the bastard's fault, he used to think. He doesn't think it anymore.)

At this point, he didn't know what to think about being degraded into a mere pet. When he'd finally been given over to his 'master', when the bastard had seen just how broken he was, he didn't seem to know what to think either.

* * *

Sometimes, he was there. Or maybe he wasn't? It was hard to tell at those times, when he took out his frustration, his anger, his insanity on him. It had started with a cruel mask, one that kept the raw persona below safely hidden away. Protected, so he thought.

But the mask was sinking, now. It had started to become the face.

But he'd accept the pain. He'd take it, and, with that stamina he used to be known for, he'd cast it out. Because if it meant his Sasuke - not this dark avenger with no reason to live beyond the death of his only remaining family, but his Sasuke, the one who had existed back before - could exist just a little longer, give them one more chance to bring them both home, then it'd all be worth it.

* * *

Sometimes, he really was there. The old him. The one that used to eat ramen with him, the one that called him 'dobe' in that voice (the one he only used now just before breaking in a way he probably shouldn't). The one that took what might have been a killing blow for him, back in that land surrounded by water and waves. The one that hadn't yet been eaten by the desire for revenge.

That one showed itself later, when that bastard snake (he'd been conditioned to call Sasuke 'master', not him) had ripped the mask off and begun to pull whatever humanity he had left out by the roots, letting the poisonous cruelty seep back in when he was done, to let the wounds fester in hate before starting again the next day. It was a long process, and he'd had to watch every second of it, in a way. The mask had never repaired itself, by the time he had stumbled into his room, sometimes coated in blood, sometimes damaged in some less physical way, and this was the result.

So when he ended up crushed to his master's chest, tears staining his hair in - _Agony? Repentance? Pain? _- he didn't question it. He just acted as a silent support; the best comfort he could give.

_(In the end, Naruto decided, what was most painful was that he didn't know which treatment hurt worse.)_

* * *

A/N- I was feeling surreal tonight, so I decided I should type up a one-shot. They usually end up with that kind of writing anyways, so why not?


End file.
